


Contrite

by the_deep_magic



Category: White Collar
Genre: BDSM, Blackmail, Caning, Community: kink_bingo, Dry Humping, Multi, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-04
Updated: 2010-09-04
Packaged: 2017-10-19 17:24:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/203312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_deep_magic/pseuds/the_deep_magic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sara Ellis will drop the charges against Neal if Peter punishes him.  While she watches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contrite

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for 2x05 "Unfinished Business" and 2x06 "In the Red," and takes place soon after those episodes.

“Those are my terms.”  Sara crossed her arms in front of her, which had the less-than-subtle effect of deepening her cleavage over the neckline of her blouse.  Neal doubted it was an accidental gesture.

Peter stared at her.  “You realize that’s not enforceable in a court of law.”

She advanced on him, smiling sweetly.  “This is all about avoiding a court of law.  Which is pretty much top priority for your little pet over there.”

“That’s blackmail!”

“It’s my word against yours.  And do you really think—”

Neal cleared his throat.  “I’ll do it.”

Peter spun to face him and the look on his face was so stunned it was nearly comical.  “You’ll… what?”

“If it’s going to get her off my back, then fine.”  Well, Neal was pretty sure about the _get her off_ part, anyway.  And she might not be the only one.

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Peter stammered.

Neal couldn’t resist.  “C’mon, don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.  You’ve literally got me on a leash.”  He tugged at his pant leg, revealing the tracker.  “Pretty kinky stuff.”

Blinking in disbelief, Peter said, “I can honestly say that no, Neal, I haven’t thought about…”  He gestured awkwardly.  “… _spanking_ you.”

“Then you have a serious lack of imagination,” Sara chimed in, stepping between them and resting a hand on Peter’s chest while looking straight at Neal.  “Besides, who said anything about spanking?”

&&&

The radio filled up the silence in the car until “Stayin’ Alive” came on and Peter slapped the power button so hard the music actually turned back on again and Neal had to carefully shut it off.  Peter held some kind of unnatural grudge against the BeeGees.  Not that Neal was crazy about disco himself, but anything was better than silence.  The drive to Sara’s place hadn’t seemed nearly so long when he was sitting in the back of a limo, screwing the silencer onto an untraceable handgun.

“So,” Neal said, “what did El say?”

Peter slammed on the brakes and honked at the cab in front of them, swearing softly under his breath.

It was Neal’s turn to stare.  “You didn’t tell her?”

“How exactly was I supposed to tell her that I’d be missing dinner because the insurance investigator you fake-assassinated and then _actually_ stole from will only drop the charges if I’m the one administering the punishment?  By hand?”

“You could’ve left out the ‘by hand’ part.  Make it sound like you’re giving me a strict talking-to?”

Peter rolled his eyes.  “Please don’t insult my wife’s intelligence.  If she knew I’d spanked you, neither of us would ever hear the end of it.  No, no one else can know about this.”

“Hey, I’m not planning on running an ad in the paper, either.”

“Why the hell did you agree to this, Neal?  It’s blackmail of an FBI agent – I don’t know if the charges would stick in court, but I’m pretty sure I could at least get her fired.”

Neal shook his head.  “She’s too good at what she does – she’d be scooped up by a rival company before she even had a chance to clean out her desk.  No, if this is what it takes to keep her quiet, I’m fine with it.”

Peter swung the steering wheel around, backing into the small space by the curb.  “What is it with you two, anyway?”

Breathing a silent sigh of relief that Peter hadn’t pushed him on why exactly he was fine with it, Neal said, “Oh, you know.  She seems to be under the impression that I stole a priceless work of art from her employer and she takes it rather… personally.”

“So, the usual?”

“Pretty much.”  Peter finished parking the car in silence.  “What, you’re not going to ask me if I did it?”

“You just agreed to her demand to let me spank you.  I think that says it all.”

“She didn’t actually say anything about spanking,” Neal reminded him, climbing out of the car.

“She said ‘corporal punishment.’  That’s pretty clearly spanking.”

“I’m just saying, don’t be surprised if she pulls out a paddle or something.  I wouldn’t put it past her.”

Peter came to a halt on the stairs and rubbed at his temples.  “How is this my life?”

Laughing, Neal clapped a hand on his arm.  “C’mon, Peter, it could be worse.  You could be the one getting spanked.”

“I’d take my chances with the theft charges,” Peter groaned.

“No you wouldn’t,” Neal muttered under his breath as Peter knocked on the door.

Sara was at the door so quickly Neal was sure she must have been waiting close by for their arrival, though her expression betrayed none of her eagerness.  Neal had to hand it to her – kinky, creative, and only occasionally evil.  He might have liked her if she wasn’t constantly on his case about the Raphael.

“Come on in,” she purred.  “I’d offer you something to drink, but I’m afraid I’m fresh out of light beer and… what’s your poison, Neal?  Wine brewed in a toilet tank?”

Peter stiffened beside him, but Neal shrugged it off.  “I don’t think either of us is in the mood for pleasantries.”

“Have it your way, then,” she said lightly, picking a long, thin object off the couch and heading back where Neal remembered the bedroom was, flicking the object through the air as she walked.

Neal heard the swooshing sound it made as it cut through the air.  He swallowed audibly.

“What the hell is that?” Peter murmured, leaning close in as they both shuffled after her.

“It’s, uh,” Neal started.  “It’s a cane.”

“A…”  Peter turned on Neal, grabbing him by the shoulders.  “A cane?  As in caning?  As in Catholic school?”

“Well, you certainly know your pornography tropes.”

Peter ignored it.  “You don’t have to do this.  I did _not_ agree to beat you.”

“What exactly did you think you were going to be doing?”

“I don’t know!  A couple perfunctory slaps on the ass?  I thought this was more about humiliation than pain.”

Neal almost laughed at that.  “So you’re fine with humiliating me?”

“That’s not…”  Peter shook his head.  “I thought it was for show.  We were going to play humble and you’d pretend to be contrite and she’d let it go at that.  If I thought this was actually going to be degrading to you, I would have kicked her out of my office the second she mentioned it.”

Neal studied his face for a long moment.  The sentiment was… oddly sweet.  And Peter was so sincere.  It was only then that he began to worry about the likely consequences of what was about to happen.  But no, he could control himself.  He’d have Sara off his back _and_ fantasy fodder for the next couple of years, at least.

All he had to do now was reassure Peter, so he turned on the smile.  “Peter, you really think I can’t handle anything you can dish out?”

Peter seemed unmoved.  “Alright, but if you need to tap out, you do it.  No safewords, just tell me straight up to stop.  I’ll deal with Sara.”

Neal only had a moment to wonder what exactly Peter knew about safewords before Sara was ambling back out into the hallway.  “You boys having second thoughts?  Because my lawyer’s on retainer.  He’ll be glad to start on the paperwork any time of the day or night.”

“No need for that,” Neal said lightly, still working the charm.  “We’re at your service.”

As Neal took off his jacket, he got a better look at the cane in Sara’s hand.  It was a three-foot long tapered rod of Lexan with a molded grip – not the kind of thing that most people just had around the house.  But somehow, it wasn’t a huge surprise that Sara did.  He draped his jacket over the back of a chair and smiled down at her, all charm and confidence.  “Where do you want me?”

“Hands on the bed,” she said, gesturing with the cane for him to stand at the foot of the bed.  He strode over to the spot like it was nothing, watching as Sara handed the cane over to Peter.  Who was rolling up his sleeves.  As Neal bent down across the bed, he closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath.  _It’s for show_ , Peter had said.

Neal had been flogged before, but only playfully and never by anyone with Peter’s strength.  Not that that was going to be a big factor, Neal thought.  Realistically, his only concern should have been that Peter would be unwilling to strike him as hard as Sara wanted him to.  Much as Peter might sometimes want to whale on Neal’s ass, he would never actually do it.  Neal was pretty sure of that.

By then, Sara and Peter had stationed themselves on opposite sides of the bed.  “Well,” Sara said to Peter, backing away to give him room.

Neal craned his head around to see Peter adjusting his grip on the cane, and felt a sharp rush of blood to his groin.  Maybe he’d better keep his eyes forward.  He steadied his breathing, bracing himself carefully for the first blow as he heard the cane whistle through the air… and felt a light tap on his ass.

Off to his right, he heard Sara laugh.  “Seriously, Peter?  Is that the best you can do?”

Shit, if Sara didn’t get what she wanted, they’d be here all night.  Neal had better get the show started for real.  He looked back at Peter and widened his stance.   “C’mon, Agent Burke.  This is your one and only chance to get all those frustrations out.  It’ll be cathartic.  Let ‘er rip.”

They locked eyes for a moment, Peter silently asking his permission.  _I can take it_ , Neal tried to communicate with his eyes, and he knew he was successful when Peter gave him a slight nod in return.  Neal was definitely half-hard by then, but at least his position concealed it from Peter.  He turned back to face the head of the bed and braced himself again.

This time, the loud _smack_ of the cane against the fabric of his trousers practically echoed in the quiet room, though Neal could swear he heard a soft gasp from Sara’s side of the bed.  A few seconds passed, he heard Peter pull the cane back through the air and then a second _smack_.  Then another.  And another.  Peter was using the thicker part of the toy nearer the handle, following through with his swing so that the resulting sensation was more of a dull thud than a sting.

So Neal was unsurprised when Sara said “Harder” and Peter started to put a little more muscle into each blow.  His pants still cushioned the worst of it, but he rocked forward a little on his hands every time the cane fell.   Though he kept his eyes on the bed in front of him, he could hear the soft grunt that Peter let out every time he took a swing and his mind’s eye helpfully supplied the visual of his partner, sleeves rolled to his elbows, brow furrowed in concentration as he brought the cane down again and again.  Neal glanced down his body to confirm that, yes, he was getting harder by the second.

“Stop!” Sara cried, and though Peter made a sound of relief, Neal was certain it wasn’t over yet.  He was right.  “I like what I’m hearing,” Sara continued, “but I’m really more of a visual person.”

Neal cursed under his breath – he should have expected this.  He took deep, even breaths, trying to get his body back under his control as he heard Peter saying, “We did what you wanted, Sara.”

“We’re not done yet,” she said, sounding quite pleased with herself.  “Neal’s been a very bad boy for a very long time, and I think I want to see that pretty little ass turn red.”

“You’re sick,” Peter spat, and Neal could feel the situation start to spin out of control.

He stood up.  “Peter, it’s fine.  I want to get this over with.”

“It’s _not_ fine, you shouldn’t have to—” He fell silent the moment his eyes landed on Neal’s crotch.  For one long moment, Neal was sure Peter was going to drop the cane, tell Sara where to shove it, and drag them both out of there.  But Peter stayed where he was, looking back up to Neal’s face for any indication of what to do next.

“Peter,” Neal said carefully.  “Let’s just finish this.”

“Only if that’s what you want,” Peter said softly, and Neal nodded.

“How sweet,” Sara said, and Neal nearly jumped.  He’d almost forgotten she was even in the room.  “Lose the pants, Caffrey.  Boxers, too.”

He turned and gave her his sweetest smile.  “Actually, I’m a briefs guy.”

“One more reason why it would never work between us,” she sighed.  “Need some help?”

“No, I’ve got it under control,” Neal shot back, staring her down as he unlatched his belt.

“Do you?” she asked coyly.

Neal didn’t wait for her to tell him to get back into position; as soon as his pants were around his ankles, he leaned over the bed once again and trusted that Peter would keep going.  He felt the cool length of the cane press against the bare skin of his ass, the only warning he got before the feeling was gone and suddenly replaced by a sharp, hot sting.  He didn’t yelp, but it was a near thing.

“Much better,” he heard Sara murmur.  “Again.”

Another quick blow and Neal knew the skin would be swelling and turning red in two sharply defined lines across his ass.  He was being marked.  By Peter.  His cock, now free of the confines of his pants, twitched hard at the thought.

“Don’t stop now,” Sara commanded.  “You can see he likes it.”

“Sara,” Peter said, his voice a warning.

“Again,” Neal blurted out, squeezing his eyes shut and widening his stance as far as he could with his pants still around his ankles.  He wasn’t going to beg for it, not with Sara in the room, but he and Peter had committed to this and they were damn well going to see it through.

And Peter got the message.  He brought the cane down again, changing the angle slightly so that a new strip of skin sang with pain.  Neal was sure he wasn’t using anything close to his full strength, but the force was definitely enough to make his eyes water and his breath catch at every stroke.

The strikes started to blur together, his ass becoming one large, raw nerve ending until he could swear he felt the air being pushed out of the way just before the cane hit.  His cock arched full and heavy, aching to be touched, but he knew the second he lifted a hand, Sara would stop him, and he wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction.

He had nearly found the head space he needed to ride it out when either Peter’s aim slipped or he suddenly figured out what he was doing and the tip of the cane smacked right into the sweet spot where thigh met ass.  The vibration shot across Neal’s balls and this time he couldn’t hold in a moan.

The blows stopped completely, and Neal barely bit back a whine.  He waited for Sara’s voice, telling Peter to keep going, but all he heard was heavy breathing – though whether it was Peter’s, Sara’s, or even his own, he couldn’t tell.

It could have been seconds or minutes before he heard the swish of the cane again and felt the tip land in exactly the same spot.  The rhythm was slower this time, Peter taking greater care with his aim, apparently as good a marksman with a cane as he was with a gun.  Neal didn’t even bother to try and stay quiet as his cock leaked steadily, sending droplets of precum down onto the bed with each blow.

He couldn’t even imagine what he looked like; all he could focus on was the burn across his ass and the painfully unsated arousal between his legs.  Peter must have noticed, because the blows stopped and Neal heard him say, “Jesus, Sara, at least let him lay down on the bed.”

She looked down at Neal, then back up at Peter.  “I don’t want him making a mess on my duvet.”

“I’ll pay for the goddamn duvet,” Peter growled, and Neal’s knees buckled.  He couldn’t hold back a moan when his hips hit the bed and he finally got some friction on his swollen, aching cock.

“Fine,” Sara sighed.  “Neal, lay down.”

Neal collapsed the rest of the way down to the bed, unable to keep from rocking his hips into the soft fabric beneath him.  It still wasn’t quite enough.  His hand – or, god, _Peter’s hand_ – would’ve gotten him there in a second, but at least there was an end in sight now.

As if he knew what Neal was thinking, Peter said, “When he… when he’s finished, this is over.”

“Agreed,” Sara said.  Neal couldn’t be sure, because his face was pressed against the duvet and his eyes were shut tight, but she sounded a little breathless.

When Peter started up the rhythm again, he wasn’t messing around – fast, firm hits across the fullest part of Neal’s ass, with just enough time in between strokes to let him grind his hips into the bed beneath.  Another minute of that and it still wasn’t enough.  Neal fisted his hands in the blankets; he was right on the edge, but he couldn’t… he just couldn’t quite…

He heard a soft grunt from the left side of the bed and cracked his eyes open, just a little.  Even if he tilted his head down, he couldn’t see all of Peter, just from the middle of his chest to his knees, but when Neal opened his eyes all the way, he could see… oh, god.  Peter’s trousers were bulging at the crotch, the outline of his dick clear beneath the fabric.  He was hard.  Because of Neal.

Another grunt as a blow landed and then, so soft he could barely hear it: “ _C’mon, Neal_.”

He was gone, spurting hot and hard between his stomach and the bed, his eyes squeezing shut until stars burst across his field of vision.  And through it all, Peter never stopped with the cane.  The strokes came slower, much softer, almost a caress as Neil finished shuddering through his orgasm, leaving him wrung out and quivering on the bed.

With one last gentle tap, the cane left Neal’s skin and didn’t return.  He kept his eyes closed, hiding in the aftermath and hoping Peter would keep his promise and deal with Sara, at least until Neal could pull himself back together.

“Satisfied?” he heard Peter say, to which Sara responded, “Very.”  After that, Neal heard the indistinct shuffle of footsteps for a few moments until something soft landed on his right hand.  He turned his head and saw a towel.

“That far exceeded my expectations,” Sara said, an eminently pleased smile on her face.  “I’ll leave you two to get sorted out.”

Neal wasn’t sure that was a good thing.  He was pretty certain Peter was going to dart out of the room the first chance he got, but he surprised Neal by staying.  They didn’t look at each other as Neal cleaned himself off the best he could and gingerly pulled his pants back into place, but once he was back on his feet, Peter handed him his jacket.

“We, uh,” Neal began lamely.  “Are we going to talk about this?”

Peter blinked.  Neal could tell it was incredibly hard for Peter to look him in the eye, but Peter was doing it nonetheless.  “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not especially.”

“I’m okay with that.”

Neal nodded and readjusted his tie, forcing his hands to stop shaking and making himself look presentable as possible after having his ass caned and humping a bed.  He thought he pulled it off rather well.  Ready to get the hell out of there, he nodded again to Peter and pasted the smile back on his face.  It wasn’t really that hard to maintain – despite the chafing of fabric against his ass, his body still hummed gently with pleasure.

As Sara, ever the good hostess, opened the front door for them, Neal got a good look at just how flushed her cheeks were.  “Gentlemen,” she said.

Peter got right up in her face.  “I trust that we won’t be hearing any more about those theft charges.”

“I’ll do better than that,” she said, holding out a package to Neal.  He took it and reached inside – the voice recorder from the plane.

Peter gave him an inquisitive look, but Neal brushed it off for the moment and slipped the recorder in his pocket.  “Goodbye, Sara,” he said with finality, not quite able to actually thank her.

They left without another word, heading back down to the car and pulling away from the curb in silence, Neal doing his best not to squirm in his seat.  Finally, Neal had to speak up – it was damn near suicidal, but he couldn’t help it.  “Hey, back there, I noticed, you, uh.”  He gestured vaguely at Peter’s lap.  “When I was.  You know.”

“Oh, _now_ we’re going to talk about it?”

“I just.  I didn’t think you were—”

“I’m married, Neal.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not.”

“What it means,” Peter said evenly, his eyes on the road, “is that I am faithful to Elizabeth.  No matter how… carried away someone else might get.”

It wasn’t quite an answer, but Neal didn’t want to push it.  “You’re going to have to tell her.  Even if you don’t want to, you know you’re going to blurt it out the second she asks how your day was.”

“Yeah, I know.  Then it’s gonna be my ass that gets caned.”

Neal couldn’t help laughing at that particular image.  “Honestly, I don’t think she’s going to be that upset.  You just… did what you had to do.”  If he knew El – and he liked to think he did – she’d probably stare at Peter in disbelieving silence for about 10 seconds, then ask for a very detailed account of the whole thing.  Possibly while sitting in his lap.

“So,” Neal said after a minute.  “Are we good?”

“What do you think?”

“I think…”  Neal looked over at Peter, whose mouth was starting to quirk up at the corner.  “I think we’re good.”


End file.
